A Betting Man
by Jameson Rook
Summary: 'Usually seeing Danny made his heart jump into his throat and his pulse race (there was no use in denying that his Danno was beautiful. He'd told him as much on more than one drunken occasion), but as he took in the sight of his partner, irritation bubbled in his chest. "Danny, what are you wearing?" Danny feigned innocence around a smirk.' Light-M, McDanno fluff/slight smut


_**Disclaimer: Hawaii 5-0 and all of its characters belong to Peter Lenkov and CBS Studio Productions. **_

_** This fic was written in honor of the Navy vs. Army game today, which Navy won, can I get a HOOYAH?! Sorry...Navy family...**_

_** Anyway, this came to me while watching the game, and I finally got around to writing it while I was watching the UFC fights tonight, so...yeah...**_

__Steve was reclined on the couch, his foot resting on the coffee table, and a Longboard in his fingers as he stared at the television. He drew and occasional pull off of the beer, but his eyes never left the televsion. He was a quarter into the most epic rivalry in sports (trust him, he'd tell you that the Sox and Yankees had nothing on this game, despite what Danny said).

"Go...Go...GO!" He bellowed, rising to his feet and raising his hands unconciously. He let out a disappointed groan when the tackle was made and he dropped back down to the couch in a heap. The door to his house was opened just as the ball was snapped, but he didn't even have to tear his eyes away from the screen to see that it was Danny. No one else just walked into his house without being invited. "Hey, Danno." He mumbled, his eyes locked on the screen.

"Hello, Steven. Game time?" Danny walked in and collapsed into the chair opposite where Steve was settled on the couch. "Who's playing?"

"Navy and Army, Danny. We talked about this _yesterday_. I know you're getting old but you can't really-." Steve's sentence died on his tongue when he turned to finally look at the other man. Usually seeing Danny made his heart jump into his throat and his pulse race (there was no use in denying that his Danno was beautiful. He'd told him as much on more than one drunken occasion), but as he took in the sight of his partner, irritation bubbled in his chest. "Danny, what the fuck are you wearing?" Danny feigned innocence around a smirk.

"What ever are you talking about, Steven? Oh, you mean _this_?" He reached down and pulled the t-shirt away from his chest. "This is just something that I threw on to come over and see your pretty face." Danny smiled, reclining back in the chair. Steve simply scowled at the grey shirt that had thick black print across the chest reading **'GO ARMY'**. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides for a moment as he contemplated jumping up from his seat and pulling the shirt over Danny's head.

"You do these things just to push my buttons. Don't you?" He grumbled drinking more of his beer.

"Oh, _please_, Mister I'm-going-to-get-Danny-shot-at-becuase-I'm-bored. You don't even get to pretend that you're the victim in this relationship." Danny scoffed, gesturing between them and leaning forward to reach for a beer in the cooler. Steve swatted his hand away with lightning fast reflexes, causing Danny to yelp and glare at him as he rubbed the back of his hand. "What the hell?"

"If you can't be trusted enough to make sound judgement in your sports teams, then I don't think you can be trusted to drink responsibly and I'm not going to have your drunken ignorance on my hands." Steve replied, tugging the cooler closer with his foot.

"And yet you're perfectly fine with having any other part of me on your hands." Danny shot back, smirking when Steve choked on his beer. He pulled the back of his hand across his mouth when the coughing fit had subsided and glared at the smaller man before turning back to the game.

"Six pack of Longboards and a month of paperwork says Navy takes it." Danny's head snapped up at the combination of beer and _not_ having to do paperwork.

"You're on, babe." He replied, reaching out and shaking Steve's outstreched hand. He brushed his lips over Steve's knuckles, getting a little thrill out of the way his partner's breath hitched in his throat.

Danny gasped as his back his the bedroom wall under Steve's muscular grasp. He wrapped his legs tighter around Steve's waist to keep himself from falling (it was _not_ because he needed more friction between their groins like he needed air to breathe. And he didn't whimper at the contact. Nope. Not at all. He was a _man_, God damn it.), and he threaded his fingers through soft, dark locks of hair, holding Steve close.

Steve's teeth were assaulting the soft flesh under his jaw when he finally got to realizing that the other man's hands were no longer wrapped around his hips, but were instead fisted in his shirt tightly. The sound of ripping cloth had him drawing his head back as he looked down and watched his Army shirt being shredded down center, revealing his (admittedly) tanned skin. Perhaps all of those weekends lounging on the private beach watching Steve surf were tanning the Jersey right out of him.

"Been wanting to get this fuckin' thing off since you walked in." Steve snarled, his teeth automatically shifting to nip at the newly exposed flesh of Danny's chest. Danny let out a low whine, his blunt nails digging into the ridges of Steve's shoulder blades. His head made a soft thud as it hit the wall when Steve pushed the tattered remains of the shirt off of his shoulders until it fell to the ground.

"Oh, what's the matter, Stevie? You don't love the Army boys? Military hooah and all that jazz?" Danny chuckled, a bit more breathlessly then he had intended, and Steve pulled back to glare at him.

"_Hooyah_, Danno. The SEALs say hooyah. The Army says hooah. And, no, I don't even _like_ the Army. How do you not know about one of the oldest rivalries in sports?"

"Sox, Yanks is still a better rivalry." Steve rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss Danny, licking into his mouth and swallowing Danny's moans, if for no other reason than to shut him up. He shifted them quickly and tossed Danny onto the bed, chuckling softly at the surprised squeak. "What the hell, you animal? What would you have done if I had missed the bed and hit my head? I could have gotten a concussion."

"I would have kissed your owies, Danno, don't worry." Steve had intended for it to be a gesting gib at the other man, but it had lost all joking quality when he heard the low, gravelly tone of his voice.

He slipped out of his jeans and boxers quickly so that he was fully naked when he laid his body weight on Danny, shifting his hips forward until they fell into a strained rhythm of sliding skin and low groans into the space between them.

Steve reached one hand betewen them and closed a rough, warm palm over their lengths, pumping them in a torturous rhythm and twisting his wrist with each pull. Danny groaned at every flick of Steve's wrist and thrust his hips upward, urging Steve's hand faster, but that damned SEAL control refused to falter as he kept the same excrutiating, but somehow perfect, rhythm.

Danny grunted and sighed into the crook of Steve's neck, his teeth scraping along Steve's pulse point and his tongue following. He tasted of cool salty sea water, sweat, and the Earthy taste of something that always reminded Danny of the forest that they'd hiked through so many times.

All of that mixed with the faint chemical tang of fading aftershave and the dried dribble of pineapple juice that Danny had watched run down Steve's neck at lunch when he was eating that pineapple kabob...thing that Kamekona had handed him. His hardness throbbed at the memory of watching that little dribble of taunting juice without being able to chase it with his tongue.

"C'mon, babe," Steve gasped into Danny's ear, his breath wet and hot as his tightened his fingers around them and pumped his hand faster. Danny could feel the curl of heat in his stomach that told him it wouldn't be long, and his stomach muscles began to quiver. "Come for me, Danno." The whispered plea and the way that Steve's teeth closed over his earlobe had Danny coming across Steve's fingers and their stomachs with a guttural cry that sounded suspiciously like Steve's name. A few thrusts into his hand and Steve followed with a heated growl into the crook of Danny's neck.

They both lay there that way for a moment, their chests heaving in tandem until Steve lifted himself up on shaky arms and dropped to his back beside Danny. He stood slowly and moved across the room to scoop up the remnants of Danny's shirt to clean their stomach with, wiping his first and then going to clean Danny off gently. Danny didn't even flinched when the cloth touched his stomach, he simply laid there with his arm thrown over his eyes and his chest slowly falling into a regular rhythm.

"You still with me, Danno?" Steve whispered, dropping the shirt before crawling back into bed and kissing his way up Danny's chest.

"Yeah, m'good." He mumbled, leaning into the kiss when Steve's kiss finally fell on his lips. He curled his hand around Steve's neck, holding him there until the need for air drove them apart. "That was...wow." He chuckled, dropping the arm over his eyes and watching Steve through a half-lidded gaze.

"Maybe you should root for the wrong football team more often." Steve chuckled.

"Yeah, who knew you could be so aggressive about a football game." Danny gave a smirk and waggled his eyebrows at Steve.

"When it comes to Navy and Army you have to be. Blood feud, baby." Steve replied, pulling the sheet over them and falling back into the fluffy pillows, bringing Danny with him so that the smaller man was pillowed on his chest. Danny wrapped his arms around Steve's waist and snuggled his head closer.

"Maybe next year I won't make bets on checks that my team can't cash."

"Maybe next year you won't make bets on the damn grunts." Steve retorted easliy.

"Grunts?" Danny questioned, lifting his head enough to give Steve a confused look.

"Army boys, Danno. Always go with sailors. They'll come through every time."

"Oh, God." Danny mumbled, his face flushing. "There are _soooo_ many seaman jokes I could make right now."

"Yeah, but neither one of us are young enough to be game to go again and you _know_ how that conversation would end."

"Probably in another bet." Danny chuckled, brushing his nose over Steve's.

"Which would probably end in another month of paperwork for you."

"When is that ever different?" Danny scowled. Steve shot him an innocent smile in response.

"Yeah, but, if you recall, there has been more than one occasoin where I've...made it worth your while to put in all that overtime working on forms. Call it and in-office incentive program."

"You know, I think that's the same 'in-office incentive program' that got Bill Clinton in trouble."

"Please. Clinton doesn't have _anything_ on me bending you over the filing cabinet last week until you were begging for it." The assault of memories had Danny flushing and leaning up to capture Steve's lips in a heated kiss. They may not be young enough to get it up right away again, but he was going to make damned sure that they were ready when it happened again. "So, no more Army shirts?" Steve mumbled into the kiss.

"If I were a betting man I would tell you that the odds don't look good if this is the response."

"You think _this_ is a good response, you should see what happens when you wear one of my SEALs shirts for the game next year."

"Is that so?" Danny perked his eyebrows upward.

"I may even find you a little miniature Navy flag to wave." Steve rolled them swiftly, pinning Danny's arms above his head as he pressed his hips forward suggestively. Danny's eyes sparked as he looked up at the other man with a wicked grin.

"Hooyah, Commander."


End file.
